Blanche felt rather vague on that point, and the feeling was combined with a conviction that she ought not to be so. She tried to give an answer which could not be contradicted.

"Of them that believe."

"Certes," said Mr Tremayne, suppressing a smile, for he saw both Blanche's difficulty and her attempt to evade it. "But that, look you, landeth us on the self place where we were at aforetime: who be they that believe?"

Blanche wisely determined to commit herself no further.

"Would it please you to tell me, Sir?"

"Dear child, if you heard me to say, touching some man that we both were acquaint withal,--'I believe in John'--what should you conceive that I did signify?"

"I would account," said Blanche readily, thinking this question easy to answer, "that you did mean, 'I account of him as a true man; I trust him; I hold him well worthy of affiance.'"

"Good. And if, after thus saying, you should see me loth to trust an half-angel into his hands to spend for me,--should you think that mine act did go with my words, or no?"

"a.s.suredly, nay."

"Then look you, Mistress Blanche, that it is greater matter than you maybe made account, when a man shall say, 'I believe in Jesus Christ.'

For it signifieth not only that I believe He was born, and lived, and suffered, and arose, and ascended. Nay, but it is, I account of Him as a true man; I trust Him, with body and soul, with friends and goods: I hold Him worthy of all affiance, and I will hold back nothing, neither myself nor my having, from His keeping and disposing. (Ah, my maid!

which of us can say so much as this, at all times, and of all matters?) But above all, in the relation whereof we have spoken, it is to say, I trust Christ with my soul. I lean it wholly upon Him. I have no hope in myself; He is mine hope. I have no righteousness of myself; He is my righteousness. I have no standing before G.o.d,--I demerit nought but h.e.l.l; but Christ standeth before G.o.d for me: His blood hath washed me clean from all sin, and His pleading with G.o.d availeth to hold me up in His ways. And unless or until you can from your heart thus speak I pray you say not again that you believe in Jesus Christ."

"But, Master, every man cannot thus believe."

"No man can thus believe until G.o.d have taught him."

Blanche thought, but was not bold enough to say, that she did not see why anybody should believe such disagreeable things about himself. She did not feel this low opinion of her own merits. Hers was the natural religion of professing Christians--that she must do the best she could, and Christ would make up the remainder. Mr Tremayne knew what was pa.s.sing in her mind as well as if she had spoken it.

"You think that is hard?" said he.

"_I_ think it--Mr Tremayne, I could not thus account of myself."

"You could not, dear maid. I am a.s.sured of that."

"Then wherein lieth my fault?" demanded Blanche.

"In that you will not."

Blanche felt stung; and she spoke out now, with one of those bursts of confidence which came from her now and then.

"That is sooth, Master. I will not. I have not committed such sins as have many men and women. I ne'er stole, nor murdered, nor used profane swearing, nor worshipped idols, nor did many another ill matter: and I cannot believe but that G.o.d shall be more merciful to such than to the evil fawtors [factors, doers] that be in the world. Where were His justice, if no?"

"Mistress Blanche, you wit neither what is G.o.d, neither what is sin.

The pure and holy law of G.o.d is like to a golden ring. You account, that because you have not broken it on this side, nor on that side, you have not broken it at all. But if you break it on any side, it is broken; and you it is that have broken it."

"Wherein have I broken it?" she asked defiantly.

"'All unrighteousness is sin.' Have you alway done rightly, all your life long? If not, then you are a sinner."

"Oh, of course, we be all sinners," said Blanche, as if that were a very slight admission.

"Good. And a sinner is a condemned criminal. He is not come into this world to see if he may perchance do well, and stand: he is already fallen; he is already under condemnation of law."

"Then 'tis even as I said,--there is no fault in any of us," maintained Blanche, st.u.r.dily clinging to her point.

"'This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.'"

"Nay, Master Tremayne, you be now too hard on me. I love not darkness rather than light."

"G.o.d saith you so do, dear maid. And He knoweth--ay, better than yourself. But look not only on that side of the matter. If a man believe that and no more, 'tis fit to drive him unto desperation. Look up unto the writing which is over the gate into G.o.d's narrow way--the gate and the way likewise being His Son Jesus Christ--and read His message of peace sent unto these sinners. 'Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.' It is G.o.d's ordering, that whosoever _will_, he can."

"You said but this last Sunday, Master Tremayne, that 'twas not possible for any man to come to Christ without G.o.d did draw him thereto."

"_I_ said, my maid? My Master it was which said that. Well--what so?"

"Then we can have nought to answer for; for without G.o.d do draw us, we cannot come."

"And without we be willing to be thus drawn, G.o.d will not do it."

"Nay, but you said, moreover, that the very will must come from G.o.d."

"Therein I spake truth."

Blanche thought she had now driven her pastor into a corner.

"Then you do allow," she asked triumphantly, "that if I should not will the same, I am clean of all fault, sith the very will must needs come from G.o.d?"

Mr Tremayne understood the drift of his catechumen.

"An' it like you, Mistress Blanche, we will leave a moment to make inquiry into that point, till we shall have settled another, of more import to you and me."

"What is it, Master?"

"Are you willing?"

"Willing that I should be saved eternally? Most a.s.suredly."

"Then--willing that all the will of G.o.d shall be done, in you and by you?"

"The one followeth not the other."

"I cry you mercy. The King of kings, like other princes, dealeth with His rebels on his own terms."

Blanche was silent, and, very uncomfortable.

"'Tis time for me to be about my duties. When you shall have fully settled that point of your willingness, Mistress Blanche, and shall have determined that you are thus willing--which G.o.d grant!--then, an' it like you, we will go into the other matter."

And Mr Tremayne left the room with a bow, very well knowing that as soon as the first point was satisfactorily settled, the second would be left quiescent.